Happenings this week included the dreaded First Wearing of the Swimsuit, an annual event well-documented in these pages. This year I ordered a veritable assortment of expensive, over-spandexed swimsuit bottoms to try on with the tankini top I had bought a couple of years ago. You see, I had been wearing a skirted bottom with it, but I was tired of the way it swished around my legs when I tried to swim. What's more, that tankini top didn't have nearly enough spandex around the midsection, so I was hoping to find a sort of control-top bottom that would make up for its deficiencies.
I know - SEXY.
So! I was pawing through the selection and rejecting things left and right. Too loose, too long, too high. In the end I was left with a pair of control-top bikini bottoms - that is, they extended well up under my top, but the part that showed looked like the bottom of a regular swimsuit. Finally! I thought. I can look sporty instead of matronly. I went into the girls' bedroom to more closely examine the look (they have the only full-length mirror in the house).
Susie was there - Susie, the precocious child who has exhibited a beyond-her-years appreciation of the difficulties inherent in middle-aged-swimsuit-wearing. I twirled in front of the mirror, sizing myself up, trying to pretend cellulite looked sporty. "Well?" I asked her. "What do you think? Is this okay, or is the skirted thing I wore last year better?"
"Welll," Susie said, carefully. Too carefully. She pursed her lips and eyed me closely. "Do you mean in a swimming way or in a how-it-looks way?"
Sigh. Say no more. I can take a hint, you know.